Kawai Sakiho had been staring at the terminal at her desk in the Sugai Dungeon Branch when she noticed the sound of the automatic doors at the entrance opening. A moment later, she also realized—belatedly—that it was already past quitting time.

It was well past nine p.m.

That meant she had been lingering at the branch for more than four hours after her shift had ended. 

“Well now, I thought the lights were still on. Turns out you hadn’t closed up yet, Kawai-chan.”

The one who appeared was Section Chief Sadoyama.

She had watched the stream of the meeting held at the prefectural office the day before, where he had been blown away by the dragon-slaying swordswoman. After Hayasaka Tooru and Tia had left the room, the broadcast had shown Sadoyama emerging from the wall he had been embedded in, wearing an unconcerned expression. After that, though, he never appeared on camera again, so she had been a little worried that he might actually have taken a fair amount of damage… but judging by his appearance now, he looked the same as ever.

“Section Chief…” 

“You were watching Anthem’s stream too, right?”

“Yes, well…” 

She nodded with a bit of tension, but Sadoyama smiled his usual slack, easygoing smile and waved a hand dismissively. He was so completely his normal self that it was almost anticlimactic.

“As for disciplinary action, you don’t need to worry about it for now. This isn’t something that can be settled by docking your pay or firing you, Kawai-chan. Besides, Hayasaka-kun probably isn’t angry at you. For better or worse.”

“He’s… not angry?”

Certainly, Hayasaka Tooru as seen in the streamed meeting hadn’t looked angry at either Kawai Sakiho or Sadoyama Kouji. If anything, even toward the prefectural assemblyman, city councilors, and the mayor—people who anyone would have every right to feel righteous indignation toward—Hayasaka Tooru hadn’t shown much anger.

Well, he had looked extremely displeased about how the discussion wasn’t moving forward, at least.

In today’s stream, there had also been a scene where he got into a heated argument with Anthem’s S-rank explorer, the elf Irselia, but that was probably because Irselia had picked the fight.

It was hard to tell because he always carried himself with an air of languid apathy, but when Sakiho had nitpicked the amount of magic cores Hayasaka Tooru was bringing in, he had chosen to “go live” and leave proof behind. He wasn’t the type to just take accusations lying down. The reason he hadn’t snapped at Sakiho the way he had at Irselia was likely because he wanted to keep his job.

If that was the case, then it meant Hayasaka Tooru didn’t actually want to continue getting along with Anthem going forward. He didn’t care if ties were severed, which was why he could afford to blow up at Irselia like that.

…Probably.

“Whether for better or worse… no, it’s clearly for the worse. Our own S City of XX Prefecture has become the center of attention nationwide. And Assemblyman Sasamori—well, he really went and said something outrageous.”

“You were seriously furious, Section Chief.”

“I’m ashamed to admit it. But, you know, as a former explorer… that was something I just couldn’t stomach. Even though I’m an old man now, I lost my self-control. Hahaha…”

“Were you really okay? You were embedded in the wall.”

“Hahaha. I may look like this, but I’m a former A-rank, you know. That much is nothing. Besides, it seems the ‘Dragon Slayer’ went pretty easy on me. Still, waiting there in that state without saying a word until Hayasaka-kun’s group left, and then climbing out of the wall afterward—that was seriously awkward.”

“But thanks to that, it doesn’t look like you’re getting bashed online, Section Chief.”

“A silver lining in a bad situation, I suppose. So then, how’s Anthem’s stream looking? They’re diving the Kamioka Dungeon, right?”

It was true that she had been so absorbed in watching that she had lost track of time, so Sakiho let out a small sigh and explained.

“They’ve just entered the fourteenth floor’s boss room and are taking a break. There wasn’t a boss there. Apparently, after an abnormally powerful boss appears, the boss room sometimes stops spawning bosses for a while, and they think it might be one of those cases.”

“As expected—you know your stuff.”

She lowered her gaze back to the terminal. The stream hadn’t cut, but the screen displayed a ‘On Break’ caption, and no audio was coming through. In the chat, one of the members would occasionally type messages to talk to the viewers—considerate behavior befitting idol explorers. Leader Megumi posted the most, with the healer Airi close behind, while the elf Irselia would also post condescending remarks from time to time, only to get teased by the viewers. Chizuru seemed bad at typing and rarely commented, but occasionally Megumi would relay Chizuru’s words on her behalf.

Sakiho liked those aspects of them.

They said, without any embarrassment, that they were “getting energy” from nameless viewers like her. They declared, confidently and emphatically, that they would be “a source of strength.”

“Thinking about the viewers, they’ll probably rest until around ten tonight. There are people watching in the late-night hours too, so I think after that they’ll push through the middle floors and head down to the lower layers. They’ll probably take another break somewhere, but I expect the stream to resume soon.”

“Hm… I see. In that case, Kawai-chan, why don’t you close up and head home too? I could give you a ride if you want—ah, right, you commute by car.”

“Yes, I do. What about you, Section Chief? What are you going to do now?”

The moment where he had grabbed the prefectural assemblyman, yanked him free, and slammed him into the floor had been clearly broadcast. Depending on how things went, the assemblyman might sue him, and as the city’s Dungeon Division Section Chief, he could very well face disciplinary action at the mayor’s discretion.

Well, the same applied to Sakiho. She had shelved off reports of abnormalities coming from the field based on her own judgment. Her name hadn’t been spoken on the stream, but anyone who looked into it would be able to figure it out quickly enough.

“Well, who knows. The people up top will read the winds too—it’ll probably come down to public opinion. To be honest, it’s probably their first time being under this much scrutiny, so I’m not sure they’ll manage it well, but they’ll have to try to maneuver somehow.”

“Well… yeah.”

This wasn’t a situation where you could just delete your SNS account and pretend it had “never happened.” What was going to become of them now? Of this town…?

There was no way Sakiho could know.

She let out a long sigh and closed Anthem’s stream for the time being. Then she operated her work terminal—there wasn’t really any work left to do—and shut it down, going through the motions of “closing up” the branch. It was all part of her daily routine; her body moved on its own without her having to think much about it.

After finishing everything, she activated the security system and exited through the back door.

Sadoyama had stayed with her until the very end, but there was a strange awkwardness between them, enough to make her let out a small laugh.

“Section Chief Sadoyama… in the end, I still have to come in like normal tomorrow, don’t I…?”

“Looks that way. Same for me—until the mayor or deputy mayor says something, it’s business as usual. Though, while Anthem is diving the Kamioka Dungeon, the Noumi Dungeon will be dead quiet—…huh?”

Sadoyama suddenly cut himself off mid-sentence and turned his gaze toward the Sugai Dungeon entrance.

Night had already fallen, and the dungeon entrance wasn’t lit up. Even though it was close to the branch, its shape was barely discernible in the darkness.

Sakiho had no idea what had caught his attention. Following his narrowed gaze, she looked toward the Sugai Dungeon as well, but all she could see was darkness.

She was about to ask what was wrong.

Just as she was about to ask what, exactly, was bothering him—

A chill ran through her.

A freezing sensation, as if her body were being iced over from the inside.

So intense that even drawing in a breath—let alone letting it out—felt like something to hesitate over.

“This could be… bad…?”

Sadoyama’s expression visibly twisted, and the very next instant Sakiho’s body was lifted into the air. It happened so fast she didn’t even have time to register it—she was slung over his shoulder like a piece of luggage, and then thump, gravity hit her all at once.

It felt like the sudden acceleration of a scream-inducing amusement park ride.

The ground fell away beneath her. Carrying Sakiho, Sadoyama had jumped. She had no idea why he would do something like that—but then something enormous streaked past beneath them at high speed, and she understood. Ah—he’d jumped while carrying her to avoid that.

But still, none of it made sense.

Why was something that huge here? How had Sadoyama noticed it? Well—because he was a former A-rank explorer, that had to be it. He’d noticed the “huge something” several seconds before Sakiho herself had felt that chill crawl over her.

A catastrophic crash echoed out, and the building that had been the Sugai Dungeon Branch only moments ago collapsed like a sandcastle kicked apart by a child.

“Shit! You’ve gotta be kidding me. A Great Worm… no, an Orochi!?”

Sadoyama spat the words out, his voice tight with urgency.

It wasn’t just anger—he was clearly out of leeway.

And the fact that Sakiho could even think something that detached was proof of how confused she was. She couldn’t process what was happening, so she was clinging only to the fragments she could grasp.

Thud!

Sadoyama landed. Of course—if you jumped, you had to come down. It seemed he’d leapt quite high, because the impact was brutal. From Sakiho’s mouth, slung over his shoulder, an uncontrollable “Guh!” escaped her.

“You okay, Kawai-chan!?”

“No, I’m not okay! What is this—ah—KYAAAH!”

He jumped again before she could finish. That weightless sensation returned. Directly beneath them, Orochi surged past, crushing everything that had been there moments before.

It was far too big.

Just its head alone was about the size of a small prefab hut. No—maybe even bigger. Its body was moving at such speed—both it and them—that, on top of how it writhed and twisted, it was impossible to tell properly… but maybe ten meters long? More? Probably more. She didn’t know. She couldn’t understand anything anymore. Anything at all.

“Don’t bite your tongue!”

Landing—and then another jump. Carried on Sadoyama’s shoulder, the scenery whirled past at a dizzying pace. Her sense of direction vanished almost immediately, nausea rising up—but there was no way she could tell him to put her down. If he did, she’d just be eaten or crushed by that monster.

“It’s Sadoyama! Yes—Dungeon Division Section Chief Sadoyama! A gigantic monster has appeared at the Sugai Dungeon! This is most likely a ‘Dungeon Stampede’! Not a horde—one massive individual! I need immediate backup—what!? What did you just say!?”

Incredibly, even while dodging Orochi’s charges with Sakiho on his shoulder, Sadoyama was apparently on the Dungeon Division’s emergency line.

By now, Sakiho was practically delirious, but even so, she could vaguely tell that whatever awaited them at the end of that call was not good news.

Because Sadoyama roared back like this:

“You’re telling me the Kamioka Dungeon vanished, and a Stampede has been confirmed at the Noumi Dungeon too!? All the backup’s already been sent there first!? Don’t give me that bullshit!”